


The Traffic Warrior

by vanillalime



Category: Oz (TV)
Genre: Community: oz_wishing_well, Gen, Humor, Oziversary Fest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-17
Updated: 2017-07-17
Packaged: 2018-12-03 10:47:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11530620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vanillalime/pseuds/vanillalime
Summary: Oz staff members carpool together!





	The Traffic Warrior

**Author's Note:**

> Crossposted from my LiveJournal as part of the Oziversary Fest to celebrate the 20th anniversary of the show's premiere. Based on the quote "We need to fight the traffic" from the show's first episode.

Tim McManus clutched the wheel of his ‘97 Ford Taurus and made the sharp turn into the old, gravel Park-n-Ride. Squinting into the morning sun, he nervously scanned the lot full of cars. He was running a few minutes late, and he was dreading the certain criticism headed his way.  
  
Seconds later, he spotted four familiar figures clustered together at the far end of the lot. He made a beeline toward them and felt the weight of their eyes as he pulled up close.  
  
Tim quickly rolled down his window. "Sorry I’m late," he blurted in a rush. "I forgot my security badge, had to go back to get it."  
  
Everyone just stared at him blankly, apparently bemused by his anxiety. Finally, old Joe Mineo shrugged and said, "It don’t matter to us, Tim—you’re the one who’s gotta fight the traffic."  
  
"I call shotgun!" Sean Murphy suddenly shouted. He hurried around the front of Tim’s car and flung his beefy body into the passenger’s seat.  
  
Len Lopresti tossed his cigarette down and ground it into the dirt with the toe of his shoe. He looked at Claire Howell and gestured toward the back seat with a wave of his hand. "You should go ahead and get in the middle," he instructed.  
  
Claire glared at him. "Why the fuck should I have to sit in the middle?" she argued. "Because I’m a woman?"  
  
Lopresti folded his arms over his chest. "No, because you’re the shortest," he countered.  
  
Mineo raised his hand before Claire could respond. "I’ll sit in the middle," he offered. He paused, then promptly clarified, "… today."  
  
Mineo turned and opened the car’s rear door. He nodded his head at Claire and said, "Ladies first."  
  
"Bite me," snapped Claire. She proceeded to walk around the back of the car and got in on the other side.  
  
Tim caught Mineo’s eye, and they exchanged a knowing look. Mineo sighed, then slid into the back seat. He began fumbling around for the seat belt, and Claire pushed the old man away as he leaned into her space.  
  
"Keep that hand to yourself," she warned him, "or you’ll be losing it faster than you can say 'Gary Beecher'."  
  
"Claire!" gasped Tim from the front seat. "That remark was in extremely poor taste! Even for you!"  
  
Claire rolled her eyes and turned her head to stare out the window.  
  
Tim waited for Lopresti to settle in, then he put the car in drive and pulled out of the lot.  
  
"They say the price of gas might hit four dollars by the end of the week," Tim announced into the uneasy quiet. "And nobody seems to have any idea how long the shortage is going to last."  
  
"Un-fucking-believable," muttered Claire.  
  
"Don’t worry, I’m sure Governor Devlin has a plan that will save us all," Sean declared sarcastically, eliciting a chorus of derisive snorts from inside the car.  
  
"If Devlin has any kind of plan," Mineo speculated, "it revolves around skimming money off the top."  
  
Lopresti laughed. "You’re assuming that his stubby little legs can reach the top of anything," he joked.  
  
A short distance later, Tim turned onto the highway entrance ramp. He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw traffic moving at a good, steady clip. He merged into a lane and sped up.  
  
"Speed limit’s only 55 here, Tim," Sean casually commented.  
  
Tim stole a sideways glance in Sean’s direction. He’d been driving on this highway almost every day for nearly ten years, and he sure as hell knew what the speed limit was. But it was Sean, so he gritted his teeth and said nothing as he slowed down a little.  
  
For the next several minutes, they drove along in silence, until Lopresti suddenly exclaimed, "Ewww, gross! That guy in the truck next to us is picking his nose!"  
  
They all turned their heads to look at the offending driver.  
  
Claire scowled. "Thank you for that fascinating observation, Lopresti," she snarked, "but I’m pretty sure everyone’s perceptions of what's considered gross have been altered by years of working at Oz. Nose-picking hardly qualifies."  
  
Lopresti whipped his head around. "Jesus, Claire, exactly how far is that bug up your ass this morning?" he asked.  
  
"Watch it, bud," Claire retorted. "That remark sounds suspiciously like sexual harassment."  
  
"Oh, for fuck’s sake," spat Lopresti.  
  
"And I got three witnesses."  
  
"Witnesses to what? Your constant bitching?"  
  
"So now you’re calling me a bitch? My lawyer will love that."  
  
Something inside Tim snapped.  
  
"Stop it, both of you!" he shouted. He spun around to look at them. "So help me God, do NOT make me turn this car around!"  
  
"Tim! Watch out!" exclaimed Sean. "You’re swervin’ into the other lane!"  
  
"Goddammit!"  
  
Tim focused his attention back on the road in front of him and tightened his grip on the steering wheel.  
  
"Why don’t we listen to the radio?" Sean calmly suggested. He reached over and pushed a button on the dashboard. "How about some sports talk on 1050 The Ticket?"  
  
Lopresti shook his head. "No, you should put some music on. I like the hot country hits of The River 101.”  
  
"Absolutely not," Claire stated emphatically. "Classic Rock Z-93!"  
  
"I listen to Power 106," Mineo chimed in.  
  
Every head slowly turned to look at the old man.  
  
"The rap and hip-hop station?" Sean asked in disbelief.  
  
Mineo shrugged.  
  
Tim shut the radio off.  
  
A few moments later, Sean cleared his throat.  _"One hundred bottles of beer on the wall…"_  he softly sang.  
  
Tim glared at him. "Don’t. Even. Start."  
  
Claire giggled from the back seat. After a beat, she confidently echoed,  _"One hundred bottles of beer!"_  
  
Mineo mumbled,  _"Take one down…"_  
  
 _"… pass it around…"_  Lopresti’s voice rang out.  
  
Then they all joined together to finish the verse:  _"Ninety-nine bottles of beer on the wall!"_  
  
As he rounded a curve, Tim seriously contemplated crashing his car into the concrete median that separated the highway.  
  
They were down to 37 bottles of beer on the wall when Tim drove through the entrance to the employee parking lot at Oz. He pulled the car into his parking spot.  
  
Sean looked down at the pavement outside his window. "You’re a little over the line on this side," he observed.  
  
Tim sighed. He backed out, straightened his car, and pulled in again.  
  
"Thanks for drivin’, Tim," Mineo said with a small smile. "See you back here at five o’clock?"  
  
Tim slowly nodded. "Yeah, yeah, see you then."  
  
Lopresti, Mineo, and Claire filed out of the back seat and started walking toward the employee entrance. Tim saw Claire dig a good-natured elbow into Mineo’s side, and in return Mineo laughed at something she said.  
  
Tim looked at Sean. "I think I could use 100 bottles of beer right now," he told him.  
  
"Maybe after work," Sean grinned. "We haven’t been to Dooley’s in ages."  
  
"We can’t go there after work," Tim grumbled. "I have to take everyone back to the Park-n-Ride." He shook his head. "Anyone who advocates carpooling should be declared legally insane."  
  
Sean looked at him curiously. "But Tim," he noted gently, "this whole carpool thing was  _your_  idea."  
  
Tim opened his door. "I know you may find this hard to believe, Sean," he said sincerely, "but not all of my ideas are good ones."  
  
As Sean broke down laughing, Tim got out of the car. He slammed his door shut and began walking toward Oz.


End file.
